


Will that be all, Mr. Stark?

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shy but kinda thotty Steve, Smut, Tony is FLEXIBLE (and it kinda breaks Steve's brain), Tony's got a kink for Steve in his uniform and his fingerless gloves, but he doesn't quite realize that lol, new relationship shyness/sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: They feed each other most of the meal, Tony, for once, not arguing about how much he should eat because he doesn’t want to do anything to break this delicate mood between them. Conversation flows between them, touching on a multitude of topics but their voices never rise above a soft, private murmur. Tony feels like he’s trapped in a bubble, like his office is cut off from the rest of the world. The idea appeals to him, especially when Steve’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink when Tony deliberately licks Steve’s chopsticks after accepting the tamagoyaki.--Steve brings dinner to Tony in his office and things escalate, that's it. That's the whole story.





	Will that be all, Mr. Stark?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this fanart by Anna ([on twitter](https://twitter.com/inediblesushi/status/833053961733050369)//[on tumblr](https://ironswordandstarshield.tumblr.com/post/185770482275/inediblesushi-will-that-be-all-mr-stark)) It's so gosh darn SEXY and SWEET! Look at that Tony! THAT STEVE!!!! LORD!!! THEIR EXPRESSIONS /FERAL YELLING/
> 
> I'm a slut for 616 tony and his pretty blue eyes so that's who I had in mind while I was writing this fic but I think this is vague enough that you can imagine mcu Tony and Steve as well. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Mood music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYzUKdDunyI)

Today has been incredibly productive but terribly tedious and Tony’s day isn’t over yet. Tony presses two fingertips to either side of his forehead and vainly tries to massage his headache while simultaneously trying to pretend there isn’t a stack of reports on his right that he has to go through. But his headache continues to throb against his skull, a dull, slow, monotonous beat.

 

Exhaling, Tony gives up, letting his fingertips drag against his face before his hands slap against his table. Shooting the reports a woeful look and the sunset outside a more longing look, Tony shucks his jacket off, undoes his cuff links, and loosens his tie. Might as well get comfortable if he’s going to be here for a while.

 

He gets lost in the R&D, operations, projects reports, absentmindedly twirling his pen between his fingers as he reads, occasionally pausing to annotate on the report. Tony’s firmly entrenched in the metaphorical guts of his company when someone knocks on his office door. His head snaps up, wondering if it’s his EA because there’s a report he’d love to reference but it’s not his assistant. It’s Steve, standing there in all his glory, the blue of his commander uniform deepening to a rich ink color and the silver stripes shining under the white light of Tony’s office.

 

The blond smiles and holds up a paper bag, “Got time for dinner?”

 

Tony recognizes the logo on the bad and immediately slaps the reports shut, getting up to his feet and heading towards the love seat and coffee table against the far wall as he tells Steve, “With you? Always.”

 

He catches the shy pleased smile on Steve’s face before he hides it behind a quick nose rub. Tony’s heart does something that he can only describe as twitterpated; flipping, flopping, and twisting around with nervous-happy energy as Steve steps into the office, carefully takes a seat next to Tony, and begins pulling take-away boxes. It’s not every day that Steve does something like this, just show up at Tony’s place with a meal. Usually Tony’s the one doing these small romantic gestures for his partners, so it’s nice to be on the receiving end of this show of affection.

 

It occurs to Tony however, when their eyes meet across the table as they both reach for the same box at the same time, fingers and arms brushing and a nervous smiling blooming on both their lips, that perhaps this is Steve’s way of breaking the ice. They’ve been dating for three weeks now, have slept together twice now. This new relationship, being romantically entangled, is new territory in their history. Tony’d thought that Steve was handling the change with more confidence than he himself was. But Tony now realizes that no. Steve’s just as nervous as _he_ is.

 

Tony melts into his seat, exhaling his relief. God, he doesn’t even know why that realization comforts him. Probably because it shows that Steve’s just as invested in making this relationship work as Tony is. He shifts minutely to the side, spreading his legs another inch so that his knee presses against Steve’s. Steve’s fingers twitch as he cracks a pair of chopsticks in two. He doesn’t say anything but Tony catches the way azure eyes dart down before coming back up, a tiny smile playing on Steve’s lips.

 

The nervous energy melts as soon as Steve sees how little Tony’s put on his plate, scowling in an all too familiar way before he begins to pile more sushi onto Tony’s plate, “You need to eat.”

 

Tony tries holding his plate out of the reach of Steve’s chopsticks but it’s a poor strategy because Steve redirects his chopsticks, nigiri and all, towards Tony’s lips. _Shit,_ Tony thinks amusedly, _this is what I get going up against the greatest tactical mind of our age_. Giving up, because Steve’s the only person he’s okay giving up too, Tony accepts the rice and fish, closing his eyes as he chews. Delicious.

 

Opening his eyes, he finds Steve staring softly at him. Tony smiles, wide and unabashed, pressing against Steve’s side before stealing a quick kiss, shivering at the quick taste of soy sauce and mirin that dances on his lips. Tony selects a piece of maki sushi, Steve’s favorite, and holds it out for his boyfriend, the title birthing a happy bubble in Tony’s heart. It swells, rainbows shimmering, as Steve unhesitatingly accepts the bite.

 

They feed each other most of the meal, Tony, for once, not arguing about how much he should eat because he doesn’t want to do anything to break this delicate mood between them. Conversation flows between them, touching on a multitude of topics but their voices never rise above a soft, private murmur. Tony feels like he’s trapped in a bubble, like his office is cut off from the rest of the world. The idea appeals to him, especially when Steve’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink when Tony deliberately licks Steve’s chopsticks after accepting the tamagoyaki.

 

It’s like striking flint near a pile of gunpowder. Each little flirtatious act, letting his hand drop high on Steve’s thigh, fingertips tracing a line on the inside of Steve’s thighs parallel to the red stripe on the outside, Steve suckling softly on Tony’s fingertips when Tony feeds him the last piece of sushi, the gentle thumb that catches a piece of rice on the corner of Tony’s lip. It’s natural that one of the sparks would land on the gunpowder and cause an explosion.

 

Tony lounges back on the love seat, a heavy crystal glass filled with water hanging lazily from his fingertips as he blatantly checks Steve out as he leans forward to pile the trash together. His eyes linger on Steve’s shoulders, remembering the thought he had last time they fucke-made love about wanting to fuck Steve on all fours just so that he could drop kisses between those powerful shoulder blades. As Steve shoves the empty boxes into the paper bag, Tony reaches out and runs the back of his fingers up Steve’s spine, the fire in his belly blowing into a wildfire when Steve turns and shoots him a wild eyed, hot look. Fuck.

 

“Thank you for dinner,” Tony finds himself saying, making his fingers trail back down and stop just before the curve of Steve’s ass starts. “And for cleaning up.”

 

Steve’s pink tongue slips out. Tony follows the quick swipe of it across Steve’s lips, wanting so desperately to reel Steve in for a kiss. But before he can follow through, Steve turns in his seat, one hand slipping up behind Tony’s neck while the other runs up Tony’s chest and stops at Tony’s exposed clavicle, fingertips brushing against Tony’s chest hair.

 

 _Make a move, kiss him, bend him over and fuck him on this couch, suck him off, eat him out,_ Tony’s libido demands of him. But Tony’s self control stands strong. It just cracks the _tiniest_ bit when his left hand slides half an inch down and curls around Steve’s ass.

 

Tony’s severely tempted to let his glass drop and stain the carpet when Steve huskily, sweetly asking, “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

 

He has to take a moment and just admire the sight of Steve, pink-cheeked and happy. Tony’s favorite Steve look is this: happiness. And he’d naively thought that Steve couldn’t look better. As it turns out, Tony was wrong. There’s other expressions that Steve wears better, like lust, attraction, and this look of _intent._ Where he exactly knows the impact his words are going to have on Tony.

 

The _things_ Tony wants to _do_ to this man. _For_ him.

 

 _Fuck it,_ Tony thinks, letting the damn glass drop with a thud so that he can slide his fingers into Steve’s hair and yank him in for a searing kiss. Steve’s grin melts into a low moan that goes right to Tony’s dick. Hungry in a whole new way, Tony twists in his seat, pressing his back into the cushioned sofa arm while his left hand insistently yanks Steve closer, and makes a pleased noise when he feels Steve’s knee come to rest high between Tony’s thighs. A good start but not where Tony wants him. Perhaps he needs to make his intent clearer to Steve.

 

Tony uses both hands to _pull_ Steve in, grinning wildly at the gasp that tumbles out of Steve’s lips at the sudden use of form and their crotches line up. “I do have something else I could use your help with,” Tony purrs against Steve’s bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth until it turns a delightful shade of berry pink. He punctuates this comment by squeezing Steve’s ass with both hands and thrusting his hips up, dragging his clothed dick against Steve’s crotch.

 

Above him, Steve lets out a breathless laugh, “That’s a _terrible_ line.”

 

“But it’s working,” Tony replies with confidence, hands moving on their own to unclasp the utility belt around Steve’s hips before tackling his belt and zip. His vicious grin softens when he slides a palm under the thick material of Steve’s armored pants and Steve ducks his head shyly into Tony’s shoulder, moaning even as his hips buck into the gentle touch.

 

Tony’s eyes flutter when he feels Steve’s lips pressing soft kisses up Tony’s neck. Sly bastard. He’s picking up fast on the things that Tony likes and isn’t _that_ such a delightful thought. Eyes half-mast, Tony tries to look between their bodies, wanting to see his hand pull Steve out of his pants. The last two times they’ve been together, it’s been in darkened rooms with just enough light to see what they’re doing. This is Tony’s chance to finally see Steve’s dick (and show it some loving). There’s barely enough room to see but Tony catches a glimpse of pink between his fingers. It’s not enough. He turns his head to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Sunshine, gonna move you, okay?”

 

A second and then Steve nods. Tony doesn’t think anyone can ever understand how powerful and how _humbling_ it is when a man like Steve lets _him_ move him, like Steve’s the most malleable piece of clay. The blush on Steve’s cheeks deepens from pink to red when Tony rearranges them so that Steve’s sitting on the love seat, Tony kneeling between his spread knees, coffee table pushed out of the way to make room.

 

Tony’s eyes are torn between the sweet sight of Steve’s shy but eager blush (Fuck. His blush has graduated from ear to ear) and his cock sticking out of his pants. There’s something about the sight of that turgid flesh, the contrast of it against Steve’s uniform, that’s really fucking obscene. And then Steve widens his legs just a little more, barely another inch, but the message is clear - Steve approves and wants more.

 

Wetness gathers in Tony’s mouth and his cock spurt pre-come in his underwear. A shy hand briefly cups his cheek before sinking into his hair, inviting him to come closer. With a groan, Tony ducks his head, dropping kisses from the base of Steve’s cock to the top, pushing the foreskin out of the way so that his tongue can worry the weeping tip.

 

Gloved fingers sink into Tony’s hair and he decides that next time, or perhaps after he’s done, Tony would like Steve to jerk him off wearing those gloves. As he licks Steve’s dick clean, Tony idly wonders when he developed a kink for Steve in uniform but tosses the inconsequential thought aside. He’s got better things to do, like take as much of Steve into his mouth while his hand holds Steve steady from the base.

 

It’s almost meditative, the way he bobs his head on Steve’s dick, the soft-hard press of Steve’s cock against Tony’s tongue, the way Steve’s fingers clench in Tony’s hair. Tony’s mind floats away, his focus locked in on Steve’s taste, feel, pleasure. He is distantly aware of the ache in his own crotch, dick crying for stimulation. Just a touch, the barest brush of it please. But Tony holds back; he wants Steve to come first.

 

It’s gratifying beyond words how quickly Steve comes, gasping Tony’s name. Try as he might, Tony can’t swallow all of Steve’s come but he does his best. Stripes of sticky, hot release catch against his beard and chin, something that briefly annoys Tony because he’d rather have caught that in his mouth. It’s going to be a bitch to clean now.

 

He’s about to rifle through Steve’s utility belt because knowing Steve, he’s probably got wet wipes or at least a handkerchief in there, but Tony finds himself being grabbed and bodily pulled up to straddle Steve’s lap. Before Tony can ask what’s going on, Steve’s kissing him hard enough to hurt. Tony melts immediately, mouth opening under Steve’s assault. He moans when Steve’s mouth turns to kiss and lap up his own come. That’s just _insanely_ hot. All he needs is a little bit of stimulation and he’ll come in his pants. If Steve says one dirty thing, one perfect filthy comment, Tony’s going to soil his underwear with come.

 

But Steve, wonderful, perfect, beautiful, sinfully gorgeous Steve shows him tender mercy and tugs Tony’s belt and pants open. Tony _sobs_ when Steve sticks his hands down Tony’s pants, gloves and all. He latches onto Steve’s shoulders, unthinking of anything except moving his hips in counterpoint to Steve’s perfectly tight grip, brain scrambling to keep up with all the stimulus. Unlike Steve, Tony shows off as much as he can in this position; he wants to give Steve a show; Tony wants this moment to sear itself into Steve’s memory. So he digs his knees harder into the love seat, leans back to give Steve all the room in the world to see his own hand on Tony’s cock.

 

Tony’s torn yet again on where to look; Steve’s gloved hand jerking him off or Steve’s face and the look of intense, loving concentration there. The choice is taken out of his hand when Steve tightens his grip and Tony’s eyes slam shut, pleasure washing over him like a wave. Tony’s helpless against it and finds himself being dragged under, panting when Steve twists his wrist with every other upstroke. An embarrassing whine bursts from Tony’s throat when Steve’s fingers squeeze Tony’s waist, “Come for me, baby.”

 

Tony has _never_ been able to say no to Steve. It takes a couple more hard strokes and thrusts and Tony’s coming in messy stripes all over Steve’s belly, on top of his uniform, and half-chub Tony wants to correct his previous thought because _that’s_ the hottest thing he’s _ever_ seen. If his brain hadn’t melted, he’d return the favor and clean Steve up using his mouth. But then Steve goes and ruins his plans but pulling him in, pressing Tony against his chest, and kissing him slow and deep.

 

Their tongues run against each other lazily, kisses slowing down from filthy, open-mouthed exchanges to tiny little pecks to warm smiles. Steve uses the back of his fingers to push a few strands of hair off Tony’s forehead. “And here I was worried about dessert.”

 

It takes Tony a whole five seconds to process that joke and then he drops his face on Steve’s shoulder with a groan. Underneath Tony, Steve’s body shakes with laughter, his hands a comforting pressure on Tony’s back. It’s the most wonderful sound in the world to Tony and the most important as well. He closes his eyes and focuses on this moment, committing to memory the feeling of their softening cocks pressed together, the sticky manner in which his shirt is clinging to Steve’s uniform, the heavy lines Steve’s stroking into Tony’s back.

 

Tony finds himself grinning stupidly as Steve keeps sniggering, wondering how he got so lucky. He must have done _something_ right at some point to have Steve in his arms like this now. Tony has often thought about his past and what mistakes he’d want to redo. But now, he’s changed his tune; Tony doesn’t want to change his past lest he lose out on Steve like this.

 

Tony nuzzles against Steve’s neck, whispering, “You don’t have to go back to SHIELD right?”

 

Steve’s hands slide down and under Tony’s pants again, cupping the brunet’s ass. “No. I finished everything I had to do. I’d planned to pick you up and take you out, but your assistant said you had a bunch of work to do, so I figured I’d come to you.”

 

 _You came on me too,_ Tony’s sex-stupid brain demands his mouth to say but Tony doesn’t because that’s _too_ stupid to say. Instead, he presses another kiss to Steve’s neck, above his uniform collar. “Thank you.”

 

One of Steve’s hands moves up, under Tony’s shirt this time, rucking it up and revealing Tony’s back to cool air. Tony shivers when Steve asks, “Do you have more work to do? Or can we go home?”

 

It’s not the question but the _way_ Steve asks that makes Tony want to scowl out of pure principle. And there’s also the way that Steve’s squeezing Tony’s ass, fingertips dipping daring between the cheeks but not quite touching his hole. This is just dirty pool. Steve _knows_ Tony’s not going to be able to work when he’s telegraphing a desire to go home and make love.

 

Fuck it. Tony’s a gracious loser and in this case, he’ll be the _real_ winner. He grinds his half-hard cock against Steve’s rapidly hardening dick and murmurs, “Nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow.”

 

With a pleased growl, Steve rises to his feet, Tony still in his lap and arms. Tony can’t fully stop his surprised yelp and clings to Steve, hurriedly locking his ankles around the other man’s waist before shooting him a wry look. “You gonna walk out like this?”

 

Steve playfully rolls his eyes, “Give me some credit.”

 

“You’re going to hide me under a coat?” Tony asks playfully, widening his eyes in mock innocence. “Or under your new hard light shield?”

 

“I’ve got a flying car up on the roof.”

 

“I don’t see how that answers my question.”

 

“I can tell it to come and hover outside your office window and we can fly out of here.”

 

Well that’s. That’s one way to make a discreet exit, Tony’s got to admit. He nods in approval, eager to get home and see what else Steve’s got in store. But he hangs against Steve, watching and waiting as Steve frees a hand to pat his hip. But he scowls when he realizes his utility belt isn’t there. Tony tries not to laugh when Steve looks down at the fallen belt, at Tony in his arms, and clearly struggles with how he’s going to get to his belt without letting go of Tony.

 

Taking pity on Steve, Tony pats Steve’s shoulder and tells him, “Let me.”

 

“I’m not letting you go,” Steve immediately points out and Tony can’t help but laugh.

 

“Don’t. But uh, can you move your hands lower? Support my back.”

 

Steve raises a questioning eyebrow but obediently offers Tony’s back more support. Tony nods in approval, looking down to make sure he knows where Steve’s utility belt is, scant inches away from Steve’s boots. Taking a breath, and hoping he doesn’t pull a muscle, Tony arches his back and bends over backward, legs anchoring him to Steve’s hips.

 

He usually wouldn’t try anything like this without warming up first, but the possibility that it’s going to birth certain _ideas_ in Steve’s imagination centering around Tony’s flexibility is just too good of a chance to pass on. Thankfully Tony manages to grab Steve’s utility belt and curl back up without anything more than a pleasant muscular burn across his abs. He straightens up to face Steve’s dumbstruck face, holds the utility belt up, and cheerfully tells him, “Got it. Mind walking over to my desk? I want to grab my jacket.”

 

But Steve just stands there, rooted in place as he _stares_ at Tony’s face, wonder and lust warring. _He may as well have stars in eyes_ , Tony thinks, delighted and proud that _he_ put that lust-struck look on Steve’s handsome face. “I didn’t know you were that flexible.”

 

Grinning wickedly, Tony tightens his legs around Steve’s waist and whispers, “Get us home and I’ll show  _exactly_  how flexible I really am.”

 

Tony struggles not to laugh when his words jerk Steve into motion, fingers hurriedly pulling a set of keys out of a compartment before he all but races to the other side of Tony’s desk, grabbing the jacket and tossing it over Tony’s shoulders before he heads towards the windows where a black convertible, top down, hovers to a stop. He winds up smothering his chuckles into Steve’s shoulders anyways when Steve hops into the backseat, planting Tony on his back as he tells the self-driving car, “Tony’s apartment.”

 

See? Tony laughs as Steve presses their mouths together in another kiss. He’s going to be the _real_ winner by the end of tonight.


End file.
